Shattered

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by Jason Richards


  There were probably listeners who better matched their target audience. I didn't need a new car, especially since I just had the rear window replaced. And Jessica and I had no plans on changing a relationship that worked, so I wouldn't be shopping for a diamond ring.

  When the commercial block ended, Boston's More Than a Feeling came on. I sang along with the chorus and drank coffee on the verses. I had a good system going.

  Garavito's Escalade pulled up next to me. I turned off the radio and buzzed down my window. Crooked Nose was driving. Comb Over was in the front passenger seat. Eddie sat in the back.

  “You're down a man,” I said.

  “Ricky never showed tonight,” Eddie said. “I'll deal with him later.”

  I didn't want to know how Eddie dealt with employees who missed work.

  Eddie continued, “Mercado has arrived in Charlestown. He parked at the mall and is on foot. About five minutes away. We'll be a few blocks away. I don't like being around all these cops.”

  “The feeling is mutual for them,” I said.

  “I'm sure it is,” Eddie said.

  “Oh, by the way.” I reached into my glove box and pulled out the work order for my window and handed it to Eddie.

  “What's this?” he said.

  “That's what it cost to replace my window.”

  “Don't you have insurance?”

  “Yeah. I wrote down the amount of my deductible. It's a bargain.”

  Eddie placed the paper in his jacket pocket. “You're a real piece of work, Patrick,” he said.

  “Hey, it was your guys who shot out my window.”

  “Not that I have to,” Eddie said, “but I'll write you a check.”

  “I'd prefer cash,” I said. “I might get funny looks at my bank if I try to deposit one of your checks.”

  “Fine,” Eddie said. “Do you prefer any specific denominations?”

  “Surprise me,” I said. “And no counterfeit bills.”

  The Escalade's windows powered up and they drove away. I buzzed my window back up and called Burke. “Mercado is about five minutes out. He's approaching on foot.”

  “Okay,” Burke said. “Let's switch to the police radios.”

  “Oh, goody,” I said.

  “Just be sure to use the designated channel.”

  “Yes, sir, Captain.”

  I switched on the police radio. I checked my watch. Jessica would be along any minute. She'd be just in time for everything to go down.

  My phone rang. A private number. That hadn't gone so well for me recently. But since Eddie and I had a truce, I surmised it would be safe to answer. What were the chances another crime boss had a threatening message for me?

  I answered, “Drew Patrick.”

  “We lost sight of Mercado,” Eddie said.

  “How?”

  “He went a different way. Headed toward the water. I have a guy trying to locate him as we speak.”

  “I'll stay on the line,” I said.

  The minute I waited seemed like hours.

  Eddie said, “He entered a building near the Naval Shipyard Park.”

  “Which building? What's the address?”

  I heard Eddie relay my question. Either Crooked Nose or Comb Over was on another phone with the guy tracking Mercado. I heard a response. I couldn't make out the voice or what he said. Then Eddie gave me the address.

  “That's Jessica's building,” I said out loud. “Get over there!”

  CHAPTER 41

  I gave Eddie Jessica's condo number and set a new land speed record getting to her building. On my way, I radioed Burke. He told me he would head over and divert some of the tactical team.

  I was the first to reach Jessica's condo. I kicked in the door with my gun drawn. Jessica was locked in hand-to-hand combat with Mercado. She was bloodied and bruised, but still in the fight.

  There wasn't a clear shot, so I rushed Mercado. He turned toward me as I landed a right hook. His head popped back, but he didn't move off his spot. He lurched forward and wrapped his beefy arms around me, trying to wrestle me to the ground.

  We danced in a circle, each trying to establish some leverage. Jessica came at Mercado, but I could see she was spent. She managed to land a roundhouse kick to the side of his head that got him to loosen his grip on me. I charged into him with all my weight and drove him into Jessica's bookcase. I brought up my right leg up to knee him in the groin when I heard the shot.

  Blood formed on Mercado's chest as he fell to the ground. I turned and saw Eddie Garavito standing in Jessica's doorway. He lowered his gun and left without a word. I didn't need to check Mercado to know he was dead.

  I wrapped my arms around Jessica and hugged her into me. “Are you okay?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Better than I look at the moment.”

  I pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes. “You're always beautiful to me. Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

  Burke and several State Troopers arrived on the scene.

  “Day late and a dollar short,” I said to Burke.

  “Story of my life,” he sighed. He looked over at Mercado lying on the floor. “We'll need to go over what happened here.”

  “Sure,” I said, “as soon as I get Jessica cleaned up.”

  “You want a medic?” Burke asked Jessica.

  She shook her head. “No, I'm fine. Just a few scrapes and bruises.”

  “Most guys wouldn't have lasted thirty seconds against him,” Burke said as he tilted his head toward Mercado's body.

  “She's not most guys,” I said.

  “You got that right,” Burke said.

  CHAPTER 42

  Jessica and I were sitting in folding chairs at a card table in the living room of my grandparents' old house on Berkeley Street. My house, as I was still getting comfortable saying. We were eating takeout from P.F. Chang's. I accompanied my meal with a Sam Adams. Jessica was drinking red wine. Dash was waiting expectantly to see if a boneless pork rib or some sweet and sour chicken might end up on the floor.

  “This is such a lovely home,” Jessica said.

  “Yes. I still don't know how I feel about remodeling.”

  “Your grandparents wanted you to make this house your own. They certainly didn't expect you to keep the 1970s décor.”

  I nodded. “I'm getting there,” I said.

  Jessica picked up a piece of sweet and sour chicken with chopsticks. I'm not as adventurous with my eating and was using a fork.

  As I looked at Jessica across the table, I was thankful for sharing the moment with her. Mercado had posed a threat to our being here like this. Eddie Garavito explained how Jessica had become a target. He uncovered the connection between Ricky and Mercado after discovering Ricky's body. A neighbor identified Mercado from the news, and it didn't take Eddie long to connect the dots.

  Jessica and I discussed it afterward. She took it better than I did. In her calm demeanor, she reminded me of why we do the work. And, whether we like it or not, there is a level of risk involved. We could walk away, but neither of us saw that as a real option. So we live with the risk. Minimizing it as best we can.

  After Jessica ate the piece of chicken she said, “How did Burke take Garavito shooting Mercado?”

  “It was in defense of our lives. There isn't anything more to it.”

  “How are you feeling about it?”

  “I would have preferred no one got killed. But given the circumstances, I'm not going to lose much sleep over it.”

  “But you'll lose some?”

  Jessica ate rice with the chopsticks. A feat which amazed me. Maybe I could manage the chicken with chopsticks, but definitely not the rice.

  “A little,” I said. “We were gaining control over the situation. Mercado was not going to win against us. He didn't need to be killed.”

  “Is it possible Eddie Garavito couldn't be so sure of that outcome? He had a quick decision to make.”

  “It's possible,” I said. “But not likely.”<
br />
  “You think he intended to kill Mercado all along?”

  I took a sip of my beer as I pondered Jessica's question. Then I said, “If we had already defeated Mercado, Eddie would have kept his word. But he was more than willing to find a reason to pull the trigger.”

  Jessica gracefully took a sip of her wine. I took another swig of beer from my bottle of Sam Adams. We were a perfect compliment to one another.

  Jessica said, “No doubt the crime world heard how Eddie Garavito exacted revenge.”

  “Before Mercado's body was even cold,” I said.

  “Not the justice you sought, though?”

  “No. But there is closure for the families.”

  “How is he handling the fallout over Ricky?” she said.

  “I didn't ask,” I said. “But I'm fairly certain he's not broadcasting that to the rest of the crime world.”

  I put a second helping of ribs, chicken, and rice on my plate. Jessica was a quarter of the way through her first, and what would be her only, helping. In our small ways, we helped bring a balance to the universe.

  As I worked on my second helping, we discussed how the case against Evelyn Worthington was progressing. The Worthington's lawyers were throwing up everything they could, but Evelyn cracked. The weight of what she had done finally came crashing down on her. She admitted hiring Mercado to kill Ashley Holland, Hannah Parks, and Victoria Clark. Evelyn would spend the rest of her natural life in prison.

  The shock of Evelyn's confession forced Grant to examine his own role in what had transpired. The Worthington entertainment empire would continue on, but without a Worthington involved.

  I looked at Jessica. “We are so fortunate,” I said. “We have wonderful families. We have each other. And Dash.”

  Dash looked up when he heard his name. As soon as he realized he wasn't getting anything, he put his head back down. One track mind.

  “You're right,” Jessica replied. “We are very fortunate.”

  I had the life I wanted. Even the life I needed. What I did, and who I shared my life with, had purpose and meaning. I couldn't help but contrast that to the case just concluded.

  There were lives so broken and fallen they served only to render tragedy. Beautiful young lives were taken away before they ever realized their full potential. All of these lives were shattered. It was up to the rest of us to pick up the pieces and make something better with the lives we had to live.

  As Jessica and I finished our dinner, I shared my plans for remodeling the interior of the house. One day. The more we talked, the more excited I became. One day was feeling closer and closer. Before I knew it, I was talking about going to the home improvement store. It was becoming real. And I felt hopeful and positive about the changes.

  All the memories of Patrick family gatherings would live on. And new memories would be made. Not in the same way as the past, but no less meaningful for those of us who would share in them. At that moment, I realized there wasn't anyplace I would rather be. I was home.

  ****

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  BOOKS BY JASON RICHARDS

  Chasing Shadows

  Shattered

  Deception

  End of the Line

  When Angels Fall

  (June 2020)

  For a complete list of books, visit:

  https://www.jasonrichardsauthor.com/books/

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank you for taking the time to read what I write. None of this would be possible without my readers. THANK YOU! It is also true that a writing project does not come into existence without the help of others. I want to thank my editor Lois for her dedication to making what I write better. A big thanks to my family for their unending support, especially to my wife and our son.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jason Richards is the author of the Drew Patrick private investigator series. He has enjoyed reading detective stories and thrillers since he was a child. His biggest writing inspirations are the tough and witty hard-boiled detectives Spenser by Robert B. Parker, Elvis Cole by Robert Crais, and police detective Harry Bosch by Michael Connelly.

  He loves writing the Drew Patrick novels and hopes his readers enjoy being part of the adventures. Like his main character, Jason is a lifelong fan of Boston sports – especially his beloved Red Sox. Jason lives in Massachusetts with his wife, son, and their Beagle-mix dog (the inspiration for Dash).

  Copyright

  Shattered: A Drew Patrick Crime Thriller Novel

  by Jason Richards

  First published in the United States 2019.

  Copyright © 2020 Wheelhouse Publishers, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under reserved copyright, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 


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